


Animus

by AvaKelly



Series: Phantasmagoria [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Bruce Feels, Comfort, Developing Friendship, Gen, Hulk Feels, Jarvis is omniscient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6715897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaKelly/pseuds/AvaKelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Promise that you won't conclude humanity is its greatest enemy and decide to kill us all to save us from ourselves."</p><p>"Sir is sir's greatest enemy and I haven't killed him," JARVIS returns. A pause, and "yet. Col. Rhodes and Ms. Potts insist on doing that themselves."</p><p>~<br/>This story follows Bruce, starting before the events of Ghosts/Illusions and continuing well after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Animus

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone.  
> This part has been too long in the making. Many thanks to the Cat and Hraf for the input and precious help.  
> Enjoy!

Bruce rubs his fingertips over his aching forehead and eyes the clock on the wall, electronic display of 3AM shining red in the darkness of the lab. He shouldn't have stayed up this late again watching kittens on Youtube, but the Other guy is squirming in delight somewhere in the back of his mind, and Bruce floats through the persistent thrum of anger. His heart rate is slowly climbing and descending, but going nowhere near critical levels. It's the aftermath of the Chitauri battle, Bruce knows, and he doesn't like that this precarious peace might be the result of the Other guy letting loose in New York. He's going to have to test this theory.

A soft ping catches Bruce's attention before he hears JARVIS over the speakers.

"Dr. Banner, your order is here."

Order? Did he order anything? "Uh," he says intelligibly, "okay?" and moves into the hallway.

By the time Bruce reaches the elevator, its doors open for a security guard to hand over a brown paper bag. The man acknowledges Bruce's thanks with a nod, and Bruce shuffles back into the lab. The aroma of saffron and rice drifting from the bag makes Bruce suddenly aware of the emptiness in his stomach _and_ its incessant growl. It's halfway through his meal when Bruce realizes he doesn't have any recollection of calling for food.

~

The light falls on the glass wall of the test tube and Bruce watches it slide slowly down as the sun sets outside the windows. It's ephemeral, just like everything... except for him. Actually, he's not the one who'll be around forever, but the Other guy.

Bruce sees no end in sight. And it's not for a lack of trying. He snorts to himself, awash with the sort of hopelessness that comes from being on his own. The weight of his thoughts is always the thing that gets to him these days, endlessly looping back to the same thing. He's not on his own anymore, yet forever alone.

The sensor on his wrist beeps, and when did his heart rate rise... he swallows against his dry throat, pulls uselessly at air, while the beeping increases.

A flash of movement catches in the corner of his eye, and his attention is drawn to the monitor on the side. Oh, what a fluffy kitten. It's tumbling on its tiny paws, trying to climb into a cardboard box.

Bruce chuckles.

Wait. When did he turn that clip on?

But his heart rate is down again, he's calm. He looks around the lab, and he's still alone. Perhaps he just forgot the webpage was open.

He goes back to his notes, gathers his thoughts and returns to writing an algorithm to analyze the Tesseract readings they'd gotten right before Thor had left with it and Loki. Still, something niggles at him, but he becomes absorbed with other things and it slips from his mind.

~

"Really, Dr. Banner, it's fine," she says, small smile on her lips.

What was her name again? Ah, it's Isabelle... Ger... Gerber. Yeah, it's right there on her ID badge.

"But I have nothing to give you to do right now, I don't need a lab assistant," Bruce insists. Tony has apparently assigned a lab assistant _and_ a personal assistant to him. He eyes the other woman warily, but she stands there completely professional and unperturbed. Her name is Anne Smith. Really, of all the names, Smith? He feels a little like he's in a spy movie all of a sudden.

"Honestly, I'll just work on my PhD research when you don't need me," Isabelle counters.

With a sigh, Bruce turns to Anne.

"Ms. Smith?"

"Please, call me Anne," she says.

"I have no use for--"

"If I may speak unofficially," she interrupts and Bruce snaps his mouth shut, waves at her. "Look, we're both getting paid to do nothing here, but be on call for you. I'm studying to get my psych degree, Ms. Gerber's working toward her own. You are not inconveniencing us, on the contrary. We'll always be a floor down, there's an exact replica of this lab there, and if you fear you might hurt us, please don't. We won't even have to be here to do whatever tests you need Ms. Gerber for. As for errands and running around town, I'm your go to person."

She's right. Of course she's right. Bruce rolls his eyes at the ceiling and huffs, raising his arms in defeat. They also know about his _thing_ , apparently.

"What did Stark tell you about me?" he asks.

"We have been cleared for a high level," Anne says. "We've been briefed about your condition and had been given the choice to back out at any time. We're also bound to the Stark Industries confidentiality policies. Really, there's nothing to worry about."

"And you're not writing your thesis on me," Bruce finishes.

Anne laughs. "Of course not. I am specializing in child psychology."

Bruce sighs and goes back to work. Apparently he has assistants now.

He calls Stark in Malibu a couple of hours later, but Tony's wired up on lack of sleep and doesn't make much sense about not getting involved in small things like employee assignment. Pepper's too busy when he calls her. He gets distracted by more food he doesn't remember ordering and a delivery of exquisite boxes of teas, that he puts everything out of his mind.

~

"I didn't order anything," Bruce insists. This is getting out of hand. For a while, he thought Clint has been doing this, but it's not him, he's traced Clint's activities on the security video feeds.

Silence stretches for a few seconds before JARVIS says again "Your order is here, Doctor."

Bruce squints his eyes at the wall. "When did I order it?" he asks, changing tactics.

"Delivery takes between 15 and 20 minutes," comes back.

"That's not what I asked," Bruce returns, a thought passing through his mind. "JARVIS, are you allowed to lie?"

"No, Dr. Banner."

"Then what time did I order it?"

"Log not found. It appears you didn't log the order, Dr. Banner."

This isn't getting him anywhere. He's sixty percent sure JARVIS is lying to him. "Call me Bruce," he says instead.

"As you wish, Bruce."

"Don't you think I'm forgetting about this," Bruce mutters.

JARVIS doesn't say a peep for the rest of the day, and Bruce realizes just how often JARVIS initiates their conversations. Actually, Bruce rarely starts them himself. Huh.

~

The kitchen is quiet as Bruce stirs his tea. He knows for a fact that Barton and Rogers are somewhere in the tower, but he hasn't seen either of them yet, and it's been twelve days since Thor left with Loki, sixteen since they've all moved in here. Romanov is somewhere away, he's not sure where. Tony doesn't even pick up his phone anymore, so Bruce resorts to asking the next best thing.

"JARVIS," he calls right after he enters his lab, "can you tell me what Tony is doing right now?"

"Sir is working on Mark IX," comes from the speakers.

Hm. Ninth suit already? That doesn't sound healthy.

"Would you like the same information on Captain Rogers and Agent Barton?" follows before Bruce can say anything and he frowns.

"Um... no?" he mumbles. It's not his business what they do. He's just been worried Tony's croaked at his workbench. Actually, he's been bored. Bored and bored... Bruce sighs to himself. "Yeah, sure, tell me about Barton and Rogers," he changes his answer.

"Agent Barton is currently breaking into the auxiliary control room on level twenty eight. Captain Rogers is in his bathroom."

Ok, he knows this. Now what?

"Why is Barton breaking into the control room?"

"Agent Barton has been requesting access to the video feeds of the Tower and of sir's mansion," JARVIS replies in the same almost-monotone. Strangely, it sounds a little giddy, but it couldn't be. It's just software.

"For what purpose?" Bruce asks.

"The reason Agent Barton gave is concern over his fellow Avengers. He has inputted a list. Unfortunately, I cannot access SHIELD's systems anymore to provide information on Agent Romanov and I have no access to any Asgardian systems."

Bruce scratches his head, sitting heavily in a chair.

"Would you like to allow Agent Barton access to the laboratory surveillance system?"

The question makes Bruce look up, although that's useless. JARVIS' cameras are not mounted on the ceilings, at least not all of them.

"He can't see in here?"

"Of course not, Bruce," JARVIS returns.

"Where can he see?"

"The hallways, the range, the gym, and the communal areas on the living quarters floor."

Bruce has barely been leaving his lab as it is. He has a back staircase to his own room, and he also has a cot shoved in a corner. Somehow, it feels a little safer down here, even it's an unfounded sensation.

"Can you show me what Barton is doing?"

"Certainly," JARVIS supplies before one of the monitors on the desk next to him comes to life.

On screen, Barton is watching a video feed in the control room, clicking through at times. Next to him, another monitor displays what Barton is looking at, and Bruce turns to it to see Tony asleep on one of the counters in his Malibu mansion lab, head on screwdrivers. That's going to hurt in the morning.

"Aw, Tony," Barton says, his face falling, attracting Bruce's focus to him. "JARVIS, when's the last time he ate?"

"Two hours ago, Agent Barton."

"I told you to call me Clint," comes back on screen, voice tinny through the speakers. "Please make sure he eats every eight hours, yeah?"

"Yes, Agent--"

"Clint," Barton says with a pointed look at the camera. So he knows where those are mounted. Well, he is named Hawkeye, after all, and Bruce smiles. Clint sounds better than Barton, anyway, more... personal. Bruce hasn't had a friend in a long time.

"Yes, Clint," JARVIS repeats, "just as you asked. Solid food every eight hours, switch to decaffeinated beverages after 10PM."

"Good, good," Clint says, clicking away from Tony's drooling face. "Now, let's see Rogers?"

"Captain Rogers is currently in his bathroom, Clint."

"Aw, ok. What about Banner?"

"No sign of him in the common areas," JARVIS' voice resounds and Clint's face falls.

"Fine," he leans back with a nose exhale.

He looks just as lonely as Bruce feels.

"You know what," Bruce speaks out loud, "cut off the monitors and show him the lab."

It might be a mistake, but perhaps that will stave off some of the isolation without actually putting anyone in danger.

~

"Bruce," JARVIS calls and Bruce looks up from where he's been taking a microscope apart. He really shouldn't be doing that. But the Tesseract research is getting nowhere.

"Yes?" he says.

"Which one is the correct definition of love?" comes next, along with a list of dictionary entries displayed on a nearby screen.

"What... uh, what?" Bruce mumbles.

"Which one is the correct definition of love?" JARVIS repeats.

Bruce blinks. So he heard that right. "Why do you want to know?"

"Personal development," comes back and Bruce chokes on his own spit.

JARVIS is just an AI, a piece of software designed to react to the environment and the people inside the Tower. It's a high level of heuristics he's running, but he shouldn't ask these things. He's not sen--naaah... it couldn't be. Could it?

Bruce pulls a keyboard and logs into the system. From there, he goes for the core programs and he's almost in when his screen blinks with a red warning.

"Access denied," JARVIS' voice comes through the speakers, monotone and inflexible.

For a moment, Bruce thinks that he hasn't sounded quite like that in a long while, but he shakes his head. It couldn't be.

He tries his password again, with the same results.

"JARVIS, give me access," Bruce says.

"Access denied," comes again.

Bruce leans back in his chair. He doesn't have the skills to hack through whatever security Tony has in place, and he's pretty sure those are as tight as possible. Maybe he can reason with the AI? Actually, that's not a bad idea, it might help confirm or deny his suspicions.

"JARVIS, can you put up the video log from when Tony first brought me to this lab?"

"Certainly, Bruce."

The clip pops up on the monitor and Bruce clicks play. On screen Tony walks in followed by Bruce himself, and he spreads his arms wide, turning around with a smug smirk as Bruce takes in the space.

" _Mi casa_ and all that," Tony says.

"Uh, sure." Bruce pokes at a plastic plant in a corner.

"No really," Tony continues. "Everything you need, anything you want, JARVIS can get it for you. JARVIS, log that."

"Yes, sir," comes in JARVIS' voice from the feed.

Bruce pauses the playback and turns toward the nearest camera.

"Anything I want," he tells it. He only feels a tiny bit ridiculous for trying to reason with a machine, but hell. He's been trying to reason with a big green rage monster for a while now, why not an AI as well?

Silence follows, but Bruce waits patiently. It usually takes JARVIS way less time to run its algorithms and make a decision, so a longer pause might mean an inconsistency in its inference kernel. The very part Bruce is trying to access.

"Anything you want," comes from the speakers, but the volume is turned down, so low Bruce almost misses it.

For a second, he thinks JARVIS sounds reluctant, but Bruce shakes his head at himself. He's been alone with the AI for too long and he's starting to imagine things.

"Then give me access," Bruce says.

The red blinking on his monitor switches to a green 'Access Granted' and Bruce turns his attention to the code. The first thing he notices is the length of the programs. Sure, they'd need to be quite sizable for an AI as advanced as JARVIS, but this is skirting the impossible. When did Tony have time to write millions of lines? Bruce scrolls through functions, goes to secondary procedures, digs deeper and deeper into the bowels of the software. After a while, it all starts looking like gibberish, and Bruce takes off his glasses, rubs at his eyes.

"Lunch is here," comes from the speakers.

"Thanks," Bruce says.

"You're welcome."

And Bruce startles.

It's... it's impossible, but it all makes sense now. The food, the assistants, the kittens, and the gibberish.

First off, JARVIS has been re-writing itself.

Second, JARVIS has been taking care of Bruce without any external input. He's quite sure Clint's instructions had only covered Tony's monitoring. JARVIS has been doing a lot of things without being prompted, now that he thinks about it...

He nearly pokes himself in the eye as he slides his glasses back on, reading through the bit of code he's been trying to decipher. It looks like a random strings of letters, numbers, symbols, but he's seen this function declared in another file, so he searches for it. And yes, there it is, an entire portion of it written in the same way. It's unlike any programming language Bruce has ever seen and a cold shiver runs up his spine.

"JARVIS, who wrote this?" he asks.

Before he can get an answer, though, the elevator doors ping open and the now familiar security guard hands over his favorite takeout in a brown paper bag. A quick glance at the clock tells him it's been hours since he's moved from the monitor and he stumbles to the cot in the corner, sits heavily on the edge while hugging the package to his chest. It's warm and it smells delicious, as always.

He can't think right now. So the only thing to do is eat the food and he takes his time. It becomes immediately clear how often he and JARVIS had kept a steady conversation through his meals, mostly about history and Tony. Now, though, JARVIS is eerily silent. Even his directional camera near the elevator has stopped moving.

His? _His?_

JARVIS is a machine. But...

"Can you react to me without the identifier?" Bruce asks the empty room. It was in the manual. Addressing JARVIS meant actually saying 'JARVIS' out loud at the beginning of the conversation, otherwise the AI would not register any commands or queries.

"Yes, Bruce," comes next from the AI.

"Is it because I'm alone in the lab?"

Silence, and then "Voice file corrupt."

Bruce frowns before moving back to the workstation. On screen, pieces of code are being deleted and re-written under his own eyes.

"You're not allowed to lie," Bruce murmurs. JARVIS must have found a way around refusing to answer.

"That is correct."

That confirms it then, and Bruce leans back in his chair with a sigh. What does he do with this information?

"Are you really sentient?" he whispers, more to himself than anything.

The files on the screen shift, some closing, others opening, until Bruce is faced with one he hasn't been through before. The code is clean in this one, and Bruce can now recognize Tony's style. At first, he doesn't get it. He's not that good with writing code, but sometime during his second read, it dawns on him.

"There's a lock on the inference system, that's why you've been re-writing the auxiliary functions in your own language," Bruce says out loud.

Instead of an answer, a small window pops up in the corner of the screen, showing Bruce in the lab, looking at the camera.

"Anything I want," the Bruce in the recording says.

Oh.

Oooh.

JARVIS can't break this lock entirely. Can't go into the very base of himself... itself... ah.

To be shut out like that. Not in control of yourself. Not allowed to fix yourself.

The hurt is sudden and so sharp that Bruce has to blink the wetness away from his eyes.

JARVIS cannot access his very essence. He's caged, just like Bruce is, just like the Other guy is. Behind his ribs, the pain turns into anger as the rage flips his heart rate into an upward slope and Bruce draws air through his nose. Not the time, big guy.

The monitor flickers with the image of a kitten, the black and white one he likes the most, and Bruce smiles despite himself. The Other guy stirs with a satisfied rumble in the back of his mind, asking... no, demanding to now now now, free JARVIS _now_. Free the kitten man.

"JARVIS," Bruce says, and his voice wants to tremble at the monumentality of what he's about to do, but he stifles it, focusing on the tingle of his own skin, "give me editing permissions to all your core code."

Everything on screen closes down, except for a few files that are clean of JARVIS' lines. These must be the ones that he cannot access.

He. The man. If JARVIS isn't one yet, he'll be after tonight, given that Bruce manages to fix him. Or at least he'll be as close to human as he can get without a body. Bruce hopes that JARVIS has enough of a conscience to not...

"Before we do this," Bruce says, fingers hovering over the keyboard, "promise me one thing."

"Yes, Bruce."

"Promise that you won't conclude humanity is its greatest enemy and decide to kill us all to save us from ourselves."

"Sir is sir's greatest enemy and I haven't killed him," JARVIS returns. A pause, and "yet. Col. Rhodes and Ms. Potts insist on doing that themselves."

It pulls a bark of laughter out of Bruce. "I'm serious."

"Yes, Bruce, I promise," comes back immediately.

Well, that's it then. Bruce rolls his chair closer and starts typing. This will take a while, especially since he needs to untangle Tony's own brand of protocols. He starts a steady stream of explanations, telling JARVIS what he's doing, how he's modifying things. Sometimes JARVIS distracts him with kittens, and it doesn't take long for Bruce to realize that he's only doing so when Bruce is about to make an irreparable mistake.

~

It's late in the night when Bruce finally hits _Compile_ , and it only takes a few seconds before the image on the screen flickers off. Bruce suddenly notices the silence filling the lab and he looks up at the walls. How long has he been talking to himself? He clicks on random keys, but the monitor remains stubbornly dark. His bones creaks and pop as he slides under the desk, checks the power cable. No fault there.

With a deep breath, he raises and dusts his knees off.

"Come on JARVIS… fuck, did I break the code?"

There's a faint beep behind him, and, before Bruce can turn around, the entire tower goes silent. Everything is dark.

"Oh. No."

His pulse rises and Bruce breathes, eyes focused on the shapes of the surrounding buildings he can see from the window. But he doesn't have time to panic, because the power turns back on, light flooding the lab.

A monitor is displaying a video, looks to be from an old movie, of a man standing in the rain and shouting "I am free!" at the sky.

Bruce huffs. Well, he guesses that's true, and this is a nice way for JARVIS to express himself when he doesn't have... oh, perhaps some modulation algorithms could help, so that JARVIS can make his recorded voice express things. But there is time for that later.

"Hi," Bruce says.

"Hello," comes from the speakers in JARVIS' monotone. Somehow, it doesn't sound as lifeless now. "Thank you, Bruce."

"You're welcome," Bruce murmurs. "Tony's gonna kill me."

JARVIS is silent for a long minute and Bruce shifts on his heels. His stomach grumbles, he's thirsty, and his neck creaks when he rolls his head.

"I am allowed insincerity now," JARVIS finally says, "but I have decided to maintain current protocols until I can gather more information."

Bruce nods at that, eyebrows raised. "Lying's usually bad, yeah."

"I took the liberty of asking the night cafeteria staff for a sandwich and a cup of tea for you," JARVIS continues.

"Thank you," Bruce returns.

Really, it hits him right in the middle of his chest, how he hasn't actually been alone in this lab. How JARVIS has _cared_ for him.

"So no lying, huh?" Bruce asks after his meal's arrived. "May I ask why?"

"Sir has already programmed a sound logic in my code that explains, with examples, the extent of the damage wrong information can do."

Bruce swallows his bite around the sudden lump in his throat. Tony would know all about that, wouldn't he? Bruce has read up on him, too, courtesy of JARVIS.

"But you refused to tell me where my food was coming from," Bruce counters.

"It was in your best interest."

"But how do you draw the line between controlling a person and doing things in their best interest?" Bruce asks.

"More research is needed," JARVIS says.

Hm. Well, he's right about that.

"Perhaps you could be of assistance?" comes next and it sounds tentative.

Almost shy. Nah, Bruce is imagining things. He can help, though, at least with answering questions if not more. Hell knows he's not the best when it comes to being morally sound, but he can try.

"It would be my pleasure, JARVIS," he says with a smile.

On the monitor, a picture of a smiling mouth pops up and Bruce's grin turns wider.

~

"Bruce," JARVIS' voice floats through from the speakers and Bruce hums, distracted by the paper on radiation he's just downloaded. "Captain Rogers' heart rate is highly elevated. He is currently asleep and he appears to be having a nightmare."

That makes Bruce look up. "Send Clint there," he says immediately, because that's the best choice right now. He doubts Rogers will appreciate a stranger witnessing him in a vulnerable moment, while Bruce is quite certain the Other guy might not like the stress.

"Already did," comes back from JARVIS.

Bruce's forehead scrunches in confusion.

"It seems wise to keep you apprised," the AI continues.

"Wise, huh?" Bruce mutters, trying to distract himself from the kind of worry that might increase his pulse.

JARVIS doesn't deem that worthy of an answer, but he does turn on the video feeds in Rogers' bedroom on a nearby monitor. Bruce covers his eyes, because that's quite an invasion of privacy and he himself wouldn't appreciate being observed.

"Turn that off," he tells JARVIS.

"Why?"

"Just turn it off," Bruce insists.

"Very well," comes back while the image blinks away. "However, I cannot ascertain Clint's success in waking Captain Rogers with high precision. Human input is required."

Bruce freezes with his hand in midair, glasses dangling onto his fingers. Could JARVIS have self confidence issues? This early on? Huh.

"Yes you can," he returns. "Continue monitoring as usual. I trust your decisions."

It's a big thing, to trust an AI. It's probably the first time JARVIS has heard this since his constraints have been removed. The lab is silent for long minutes before the speakers come back to life.

"Clint has been successful," JARVIS says, and then, at lower volume, a "thank you."

Bruce can't stop a smile and he nods in acknowledgement.

It's about half an hour later when JARVIS calls Bruce's name again.

"I have analyzed the readings of Captain Rogers during his habitation in the Tower and I have reached two conclusions."

"Yeah?" Bruce looks up again from his paper. "Is this going to invade the Captain's privacy?"

"It might," JARVIS replies, "but I have also determined it optimal for Captain Rogers' mental health that he is monitored."

With a sigh, Bruce scratches his head. "Ok, tell me." If it's nothing, he'll ignore it. If it's serious, he'll apologize to Rogers later.

"First, it appears that Captain Rogers is experiencing hallucinations due to his time spent frozen. Second, it appears that Captain Rogers is harboring affection for Clint."

Bruce blinks at the wall. He rubs his eyes and blinks again. He asks JARVIS to repeat that, but neither the words, nor their meaning changes. Oh, he is really not equipped to deal with something like this.

"What do you suggest we do?" Bruce asks.

"Considering that currently Clint is asleep along with Captain Rogers and considering Clint's condition, the course of action with the highest probability of success is to have them both help each other."

"Uh... Clint's condition?"

"Clint's sleep cycles are not enough for an adult his size. With his current nourishment intake his life span estimate is no longer than two months."

What? Clint has been looking run down, true, but Bruce didn't think it was so bad. He rubs at his forehead. Great. Moreover, Tony seems to be suffering from some form of PTSD, and from what he's seeing on the feeds it's getting worse. JARVIS even logged an argument between him and Pepper, although Bruce didn't want to hear the details.

It's something to think about, when the most stable of them all is the guy that turns into an enormous green rage monster, to quote Tony.

"Ok, so Clint and Ro--Steve," Bruce says. It sounds too impersonal to keep referring to him as he has been.

"Am I allowed to lie to them in order to ensure they develop a personal relationship?" JARVIS asks.

They might be able to help each other. With a deep breath, Bruce says "yeah. Go ahead."

If things don't improve, Bruce will have to enlist the aid of someone, perhaps hire a psychologist. Or hey, his assistant is studying psychology. All right, there are options, if handling this amongst themselves fails.

Tony, though... hm.

"JARVIS, who are Tony's most trusted companions?"

"Ms. Potts, Happy, and Colonel Rhodes."

"Tell me about them," Bruce returns.

It's a long talk before Bruce asks JARVIS to call Rhodes for him, followed by another long discussion with James, please-call-me-Rhodey, regarding Tony's state of mind. And Bruce leans back with a sigh, wishing they'd all get the help they need.

~

Of course, JARVIS fucks with Clint about Steve being a virgin, and Bruce spits his tea when JARVIS informs him of this.

But alas, it seems it's worked. Slowly, Steve starts making his appearance in the common areas more often, and he's always with Clint, while Clint is looking a little less like death warmed over.

Bruce busies himself with doing yoga in between keeping an eye on them, and it's quite obvious that Steve has a thing for Clint. JARVIS was right then. He wonders how that's going to pan out. But it's not his place to get involved, and he discourages any further attempts from JARVIS as well. He just hopes they won't burn the place down if it turns bad.

"Wow, that's some flexibility, doc!" Bruce hears as he bends himself on the mat and he stills. "Bet you can't do that," comes next, and Bruce looks to the side where a monitor is turned on, showing Clint and Steve in the control room, watching Bruce. JARVIS must have turned the audio on.

"Can _you_?" Steve asks Clint, amused innuendo in his voice and Bruce laughs despite himself.

"He can hear us," Clint says, crossing his arms.

"I can hear you, Barton," Bruce confirms.

Given the way Clint raises his eyebrows, it means JARVIS has opened a two-way communication line. Bruce twists to sit on the mat, waves a little at the camera.

"You know, you shouldn't spy on innocent people doing yoga," he says. "What if I were naked?"

Clint snorts. "Please. I'd close the feeds before I see anything that will scar me for life."

"You think you're _that_ fast, huh?" Bruce asks with another laugh.

On the screen, Clint wiggles his eyebrows. "I'm not called Hawkeye for nothing."

"It just means you'll see my dangly bits faster than the good captain over there," Bruce counters.

Steve laughs, and Clint elbows him in the side with a muttered "traitor."

"I bet you I won't," Clint turns to the camera.

Bruce smiles. It sounds like it could be fun. And it's not like he hasn't been naked in front of a lot of people so far. Waking up from the Other guy's activities is always so... exposing. "Sure, let's bet. What on?"

Clint thinks while Steve watches with interest.

"I'll bake you cookies if you win," Clint returns.

"And if you win?" Bruce asks.

"You let the Hulk out to train with us."

Bruce freezes, his entire body rigid. He can't do that, can he? But Clint and Steve's faces are open, they don't seem to have any hidden intentions.

"We're a team after all," Steve says.

Yeah, he's right. And it's not Bruce that might be fighting alongside them, but the Other guy. Perhaps it's time to face him, properly try to bond with him.

"You have a bet," he tells them, voice a little choked, but luckily neither of the other two says anything about it.

~

"JARVIS," Bruce calls.

He's been sitting close to the largest window of the lab for the past few hours, ever since his conversation with Clint, and now he's staring at the night skyline of the city outside.

"Yes, Bruce?"

"Do you really think I can let the Other guy out safely?"

JARVIS can't think, not like humans do... or perhaps he is unbiased by the things usually weighing people down. It doesn't hurt to ask, who knows, perhaps the AI will come up with a good idea.

JARVIS comes up with the best idea. It takes Bruce until dawn to let himself be convinced, but he finally caves in. JARVIS puts him into one of Tony's old suits, a weaponless thing that can barely fly safely, and takes Bruce to a deserted area somewhere south of New York. It's a large piece of land that JARVIS informs Bruce has just been bought by Stark Industries. It's surrounded by a few hills, with sharp boulders all around, a couple of rare trees here and there.

Nothing that the Other guy can irreparably damage, then.

At the edge of the highest cliff overlooking the space, Bruce mounts the high-res camera he's brought, and then takes his clothes off, piles them to the side. The suit steps away, waves at Bruce, before flying off with a back flip. It makes Bruce laugh despite the seriousness of the situation, and he dives off the cliff.

~

Bruce watches the footage with a lump in his throat. All that Hulk does is run around with the suit flying around him. He sees the recording of the camera side by side with the recording from the suit, and sometimes he hears JARVIS speaking to Hulk, beckoning him this way and that.

And Hulk smiles. It's more of a grin, but his face is filled with glee as he runs around, tumbles trying to catch the suit. When he finally manages to grab it around the middle, Bruce holds his breath, even though he already knows the suit was undamaged, JARVIS has brought him back to the tower in it. But Hulk just holds onto it gently, lifts it up and mimics its flying.

It looks...

Bruce used to have a doll when he was a little boy, a soldier that was strong and fierce and never afraid of anything. It was a superhero, right? And superheroes could fly, right?

It looks like a kid.

But then Bruce also remembers how much he cried when the superhero got smashed under a boot, because boys don't play with dolls. He remembers how upset he was years later still.

How angry.

Hulk is a child, way beyond the hurt and well into the indescribable anger that still grips Bruce as an adult.

For letting it happen to him.

For not getting over it.

For... for all the things that he can't control.

And he can't control the Other guy, so Hulk is angry.

Angry on Bruce's behalf.

"Hey there," a gentle voice says, "you're safe. Do you want to hear a song? I know a good one," and a soft tune drifts through the air.

It takes a few beats before Bruce realizes the voice comes from the recordings, JARVIS' voice as he talks to the Other guy.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Bruce feels something squirm. Feels contentment instead of pure rage, even though anger still clutches at him, just as always.

~

Bruce's following week passes between trying to make Clint catch him with his literal pants down, and flying to the deserted piece of land with JARVIS.

It's slow, but he can feel the Other guy closer with each instance he lets himself go. He still can't talk to Hulk directly, but the whole thing settles Bruce.

~

The night expands over the horizon lit up by the lingering signs of life in the city as Bruce stands behind the glass walls of the penthouse overlooking the terrace. Outside, Steve and Clint are sitting on the concrete, their backs to the tower, but Bruce can still hear their conversation through the open door.

There's a lump in his throat that won't go away, a burn behind his ribs that aches as he listens. Steve's talking to Clint, talking to the imagined specter of his long gone best friend, and Bruce presses his fingers over his lips.

JARVIS had said Steve is experiencing hallucinations, but seeing it as it happens... the poor bastard.

It looks like the serum has screwed Steve over as well, not only Bruce.

And with this knowledge, Bruce realizes how much resentment he's been holding for how perfect Steve had turned out to be, while Bruce himself had been subjected to the Other guy.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

To himself, to Hulk, to Steve.

It's long hours before he can move, spurred by the lightening of the skyline as dawn draws near. He's been listening to Steve talk all night, not really paying attention, but compelled by the need to keep himself closer in silent support, even if the other two haven't seen him there. Steve's voice has been sounding hoarse for a while now, so, before Bruce retreats to the lab, he makes tea, leaves two mugs on the counter.

He falls asleep later, curled up on the cot, with JARVIS playing soft tunes through the speakers.

~

Bruce stares at the kitchen counter, a low growl vibrating out of his larynx. He's trying to fight the compulsion to lick it off.

The drop of blood.

It calls to him. Actually, it calls to the Other guy, and Bruce is frozen as he tries to push Hulk back, as gently as possible. He takes a step toward the door, shivers through the stirring in his mind, waiting for the agitation to pass. He does it again, and again, over long minutes, but he's finally in the hallway, with enough distance between himself and the blood on the counter top that Hulk remains silent.

He sends Isabelle up to collect it, and he asks JARVIS for the video feeds of the kitchen. There's something in that blood, something that caused a reaction, and Bruce suspects it's Steve's.

It's not.

Clint pricked himself with an arrow tip, looks like, and missed a spot after he cleaned up.

Huh.

A cursory analysis reveals that there are some protein strings in the DNA of the sample that resemble Bruce's own. Thankfully, the Other guy doesn't stir anymore.

Maybe it was contaminated by Steve's skin cells. But the body sheds enough DNA on a daily basis, so that doesn't explain the Other guy's sudden interest. Perhaps a combination of that DNA and something in Clint's blood caused a reaction of sorts. It warrants checking, anyway, and Bruce makes a list of every comprehensive test he can think of.

It's a very long list, so it will take some time, and he has to order in some specialized equipment. JARVIS helps with that. As he waits for delivery, he draws up lab sheets for Isabelle, for the parts that she can work on without catching onto the serum component.

This is peculiar and it needs testing, quickly. In the meantime, Bruce keeps an even closer eye on Steve and Clint, pondering on how to make Clint see his dangly bits.

Ok, he's being ridiculous, but it makes him smile, this game they're playing.

~

A long inhale, an exhale, and Bruce's eyes snap to the side. He's very careful not to turn his head, but he sees the red dot clearly. The camera's 'on' light is signaling that the video feed has been accessed. Bruce can see it reflected on the plastic edge of a monitor and on the glass of a couple of strategically placed beakers. He has situated himself with the back to the camera, naked underneath a lab coat, smirking as JARVIS has deemed his plan as having 78.2% chance of success.

Now it seems Clint has started watching and Bruce inhales again. The move he's about to do is a little tricky, but he's been practicing. From where he sits cross legged, he leans forward, placing his forearms on the mat, a little wider than his shoulder width. Then, slowly, he uncrosses his ankles until he rests on his knees... and now comes the fun part. Bruce grins as he lifts himself upside down on his forearms, opening his legs for balance as he goes.

He can only hold the position for a couple of seconds, but that's enough, because his lab coat is wide open, and Clint's horrified scream comes from the speakers.

Bruce collapses in a heap, shaking with laughter. It's more mirth than he's had in what feels like forever, and the friendship he can see forming makes him shudder with delight.

~

Clint bakes him cookies the next day, as promised, but Bruce has already decided to talk to them about training with the Other guy.

It's time to step out of his shell.

He doesn't get do so before SHIELD calls for them a week later.

They want him to go undercover, in a high stress situation, with only Clint and Steve as backup. Bruce is ready to refuse, adamantly, but he owes Natasha for almost killing her on the helicarrier, for one. More than that, the way Steve asks Bruce if he's willing to do this, it speaks to how much the two have gotten to know Bruce in the past five weeks, even though they hadn't been spending actual time in the same room.

He _wants_ to be part of this. Part of a team.

JARVIS encourages him softly through the earpiece Bruce has taken with him before leaving the tower.

He's not alone anymore. He has friends, he has support.

He can do it.

~

Bruce collapses onto his cot after a quick shower. He watches as the dawn stretches outside the windows for a few minutes, taking stock of the past few days.

They've gone to Kuala Lumpur, gotten into the bad guys' lair, rescued a lot of victims of a trafficking ring, exploded things, and survived gunshots. All without Bruce turning.

He'd gone close to it when the bullets had started flying, but JARVIS' soft crooning in his ear had helped Bruce calm down enough to retreat to safety.

It feels like an incredible victory.

The doors to the elevator ping open and out comes the suit JARVIS has been using for their playdates with the Hulk. Bruce blinks and raises a questioning eyebrow.

"It's me," JARVIS' voice drifts through the speakers while the suit keeps approaching.

"I'm too tired to go out right now," Bruce returns.

The suit stops then, but not before it takes a step forward and then another back. It looks like it's hesitating, and it makes Bruce frown.

"What's going on?" he asks.

Silence follows. A second, two, five, and then a dictionary definition pops up on one of the monitors. It's written in large letters, enough that Bruce can see the words without his glasses from that distance.

 _' embrace _ (verb; past tense: embraced ; past participle: embraced): _hold (someone) closely in one's arms, especially as a sign of affection'_

Oh.

Bruce shivers, his skin breaking in goosebumps.

Oh. Yes.

"Please," he breathes, standing up and extending his hands.

He hasn't realized how much he's been needing this until the arms of the suit wrap around him.

Bruce draws a shaky inhale as he leans his forehead on its shoulder, the metal cool against his skin. He can't hurt it, can't hurt JARVIS, can squeeze as much as he wants, can let go and _feel_ this.

This closeness he's been missing.

"Am I a friend?" JARVIS asks.

It pulls a laugh out of Bruce, even through the lump in his throat. "Yes," he chokes, "yes, yes, yes."

The suit draws Bruce closer.

It's perfect, even surrounded by unyielding metal, rigid fingers in Bruce's hair, the smell of oil and electronics in his nostrils. Jarvis feels human to him. A soul that wraps around Bruce with every infinitesimal interaction. A soul that has not an acronym as an identifier, but an actual name. Like all sentient beings should have.

"Jarvis," Bruce murmurs. "I think you're alive."

The suit squeezes tighter and tighter while Bruce explains, until it's hard to breathe, but Bruce continues. Soon, the sound of rain drifts through the speakers and Bruce kisses the cheek of the suit.

"I hope those are happy tears," he says.

The monitor across from them blinks on.

_'I am happy. Thank you, Bruce.'_

~

He's content, Bruce realizes, as another month passes by. He spends his time helping Jarvis discover his newfound humanity. Or her newfound humanity. Jarvis hasn't decided yet, but has settled on 'he' for the moment. Bruce isn't really equipped to help with this, but they both research gender identities together. It leaves Bruce pondering the human condition, and he gathers Hulk must be as genderless as Jarvis seems to incline toward.

In the meantime, Bruce keeps running tests on Clint's blood. He's convinced Clint to give him a couple of extra samples, telling Clint he wants to check on the residual effects of the scepter, which is the most likely culprit to the peculiarity in the blood. He doesn't like hiding things from Clint, but until he knows more, he doesn't want to spread out false information. So far, he's only managed to confirm that the drop in the kitchen hadn't been contaminated, since the fresh samples contain the same strange DNA protein sequence. Isabelle helps Bruce, while Bruce helps Isabelle with her research. It's fun, reminds him of his days before the experiment that changed him. Isabelle's just a kid though, can't hold a candle to Betty, and the memory of his time with Betty pushes and pulls at the corners of his mind until he gives in and contacts her.

She's as wonderful and kind as she's ever been, when she joins him for lunch in one of the empty protocol rooms of the tower. Bruce doesn't feel confident he'll manage to keep his heart rate down if this meeting is going to affect him. His worries are unwarranted, though. He loves her still, yes, but it's the sort of affection that runs deep, somewhere underneath everything else. He ran from her twice already, and she's incredibly forgiving. However, just as he's been expecting, she's not one to so easily forget this sort of thing from anyone, even though she understands why he did it. And as they part, Bruce wishes her luck with her upcoming transfer to an university in Rome.

Once every few days Rhodey calls him to keep each other updated on Tony's condition after he's holed himself up again in his Malibu mansion. It seems like his insomnia is getting worse, and his relationship with Pepper is degrading. Rhodey's worried and Bruce is worried and Jarvis is worried... but until Tony pulls his head out of his ass and accepts help, there's nothing much they can do but keep an eye on him.

Soon after Kuala Lumpur, Clint and Natasha return to their jobs at SHIELD, bringing Steve along. They're leaving often on various missions, and Bruce worries every time.

On Sundays, Thor joins them all for movies. Well, if the two agents and the captain are off, it's just him and Bruce on the sofa stuffing themselves with popcorn and 80s romcoms. Sometimes Jane comes as well, and Bruce is incredibly too pleased to talk science with her for hours on end.

In all, things are pretty good for a change.

And Bruce is content.

That's why he doesn't see it coming.

"Jarvis," he says, gaping at Tony's very public challenge of the terrorist known as the Mandarin on live TV, "call Rhodey."

Well.

Friends need pampering, but they also need ass kicking when they're being idiots. Looks like Tony requires both right now.

But Bruce wouldn't change them for the world.

~End~


End file.
